Sunday, December 18, 2016

Happy Holidays

‘Twas the week before Christmas. Snow covered so much of the
Michigan landscape, it’s as if Mother Nature was thoroughly pissed off at
humanity. Those brave of heart were facing the conditions head on, trudging
through drifts and bitter winds in pursuit of that perfect, elusive holiday
gift.Others who lived for weather like
this were reveling in this frozen Xanadu, bundled up against the elements,
riding sleds and skis and snowmobiles.

Me?

At the moment I’m snug and warm inside, fingers dancing
across the keyboard while instrumental jazz oozes from the speakers.Holiday music?I’ll save that for Christmas Eve.

“Scrooge!” you retort with annoyance.

“Nah. Just writing.”

For the first time in months, I’m working on a new
manuscript. The sequel to “Why 319?” has been impatiently awaiting my return. Those
characters are like several old friends, clustered around the table, drinks in
hand, tales to be shared, just waiting for me to start the conversation.And since the story takes place in June,
holiday tunes don’t exactly help set the mood. As a writer, you gotta stick
with what works.For me, it’s jazz.

So no matter where you are, may your holidays be filled with
love and laughter, shared with family and friends.

If you want a little bit of Christmas, here’s an excerpt
from “Devious” that might fit the bill.

Christmas
Eve Malone was scheduled to work a sixteen-hour shift. Some of the guys traded
duty, to fit in with their family plans. Malone worked from noon until four the
next morning. We would spend Christmas Day together, and he would go back on
duty the following afternoon. It was tough, but I managed to wait for him to
come home. He slipped into the apartment quietly and almost walked past me. I
was curled up on the sofa, only my nose visible.

"Hey,
Malone," I whispered.

He
jumped. "Hey, Jamie."

Malone
slid beside me and covered my face with kisses. After a while he sat up and
started to unzip his jacket.

"Keep
it on." I struggled out of the sofa.

"Why?"

"Because
we're leaving, that's why."

"Where
are we going?" His eyes were barely visible in the dim light from the window.

"It's
a surprise. Trust me?"

There
was a moment’s hesitation. “Mostly.”

Can
you believe it? The guy was using my own line on me again. "Then shut up
and follow me."

"There’s
nothing quite like a demanding woman."

In
the car I handed him a blindfold and wouldn't start the motor until he'd
slipped it on. After a little grumbling, he did as I asked.

"Kidnapping
is against the law."

"You're
too old to be a kid. I’ll let you take the blindfold off soon, if you’re
good."

He
sat there patiently while I drove to the house. It was only a few miles away
and traffic was nonexistent. A light dusting of snow had fallen earlier, making
everything sparkle. I parked by the curb and helped him from the car. He held
my arm gingerly and followed me up the walk and the two short steps to the
front entrance. Inside I made him stand by the door and wait. Only after I lit
the fire in the hearth and turned a couple of switches on did I let him take
the blindfold off.

"What's
going on?" Malone blinked as his eyes swept the room.

"Welcome
home." I patted the sleeping bag beside me. I was sprawled on top of
another one, clutching my long, wool winter coat around me. A queen-sized air
mattress was beneath them, giving the nest a bed-like quality.

"Home?"

"It's
my new place. I rented it last week."

"Home?"

"Room
for two, Malone, if you're interested."

He
stood there by the door, staring. I couldn't read his reaction from here and
started getting nervous.

"Aren't
you going to come in?" I pleaded. "Take the chill off, get
cozy."

In
front of the picture window was our tree, five feet of Blue Spruce, trimmed
with little lights, ornaments and strings of popcorn. Outside I'd wrapped the
railing in tinfoil and red ribbons. The fire was burning strongly, throwing
heat toward the sleeping bag nest. Beneath the tree were a dozen packages for
Malone.

"I
don't know what to say, Jamie." He spoke so softly it hurt my ears.

"Don't
say anything. Just haul your ass over here. "

He
peeled off his jacket and came to me. I tried to convince myself I was
trembling because of the cold but even I didn't believe it.

"Aren't
you going to take your coat off? It's warm in here." Malone knelt beside
me and took my face in his hands.

I
shook my head. "You do it. First present on Christmas Day."

And if you really want Christmas music, here's a link to my favorite holiday song.

Hometown Reads

Why 319?

Devious

Vanishing Act

Fleeing Beauty

Fade Away

Pages

About Me

Yes,
my name really is Mark Love. I am a Michigan native, who up until recently
lived in the Metro Detroit area, where crime and corruption always seem to be
at the top of everyone's news. So there's always the chance to find something
that can trigger a story idea and enough interesting characters to jump start
your imagination.

While I have worked in many
industries and career paths over the years, one of my passions has always been
writing. I was even able to parlay that passion for a while, working as a
freelance reporter for a couple of newspapers in the Detroit area. Writing
features and hard news helped me hone my talents. But while newspaper worked
was interesting and paid a few bills, it was a far cry from the fiction writing
that I enjoy the most.

I've always been drawn to mysteries
and thrillers, the kind of stories that have a fast pace, that keep you moving
and keep you guessing as to what's going to take place next. Mix those in with
some elements of crime, perhaps a glimpse of the seedier side and you've got
me. So it's always been one of my goals to write stories like that.